A Cleremont Story

[smibbo]

cindigo is on my friends list. This is because she's my friend. Like Baph, I met cindigo through online personals. I have a very bad memory for literary details... so I couldn't tell you exactly what her ad said or why I was attracted to it/her but I do remember that the moment I read it I thought "now there's someone I have to meet." and I responded. Obviously, my ad did not convey any vibes of "psychotic stalker-in-the-making" because she responded back and we made a "date" to meet. To this day, I'm not entirely sure if either of us was interested in the other romantically or not, we just knew we had to meet. Read her userpage and I'm sure you'll understand. She's one of the few people on my list who have way more "friends of" than "friends" usually people like that come off as more of a cult of personality and I can't stand anything remotely fake, but there is nothing fake about cindigo. She's sexy as hell too. But of course I didn't know that until we met. And I haven't told you about that yet. But I'm telling you now.

Anyway, Cindigo and I met each other for the first time at Innovox. Can't say as anything special happened at that meeting but I did come away thinking "wow! what a cool fucking person!" Okay yeah, I kinda wished she was into me like that but even though it turned out to NOT be that kind of date, I still was completely thrilled to make a new friend with the likes of her specialness.

Well not long after, she moved. Blah and bleh. Friendship barely begun and the beyatch leaves town. We still chatted online some, had email wars and even talked on the phone a bit but y'know, when someone leaves town you pretty much figure "ah well"

I think it had been almost a year (cindigo is well within her rights to correct me on this) but I got an email from her saying she was coming back to town for a weekend. She called me up soon after and asked if she could stay with me. Apparently she was staying with a friend who had a new baby and the situation was less than tolerable. My having three older boys was apparently okay with her. Of course I said "sure!" and gave her directions.

That night, we decided to go out. We went to Innovox and had a fun time. I introduced her to a few people, adric and techman_dsc and then we cast about for something to do. She mentioned the Cleremont lounge. Immediately I was all about it; cindigo was definitely the kind of person who could truly appreciate the unique funkiness that is the Cleremont. Adric and Techman both wanted to go with us. We needed to get some food first, so we chose to hit the murder Kroger first then walk on over to the lounge.

Let me descibe the Cleremont for you: it's a strip bar in the barest sense of the word. That is, they have a bar and there's strippers who work there. The terrain of the Cleremont is completely uneven. Different levels all over the place but none of them requiring more than two steps.The whole thing is in a basement and the lighting isn't the best. The main bar, when you go in you're facing it, is a circle (I think) and there's a platform in the middle of it where the strippers perform. The strippers are mostly older ladies who probably have been working the Cleremont all their lives. I'd wager many of them were born there and haven't seen the light of day or a full set of clothing in decades. The strippers there are of the "old style" and they each have a theme to their outfits such as western, blond bombshell, catholic schoolgirl etc. Of course, the fact that the ladies are mostly retirement age doesn't deter any of them from doing their job with full enthusiasm or absolute cliche-ridden acting. I swear the Academy awards ain't got nothing on these folks.
The clientele at the Cleremont totally runs the gamut. You got your college boys liquoring themselves into obnoxious stupidity, you got your biker-men roaring and whoring all over the place, you got your tired old drunks, you got your alternateens with their fake IDs, you got your artsy snobs slumming about, you got your confused business-person who is not watching their wallet (but probably should be) and you got everything in between. Ah, from the clientele to the strippers, the place is just the most happenin spot in town... or it should be if it's weren't so small and dark.
Final note: the DJ plays mostly 80's crap but definitely knows what's danceable and what's not. He plays ALL the goodies so you might hear Siouxsie, you might hear Micheal Jackson. If you can shake your booty to it, he's playing it.

So Cindigo and I arrive, gaping about and I could tell she instantly adored the place. That boded well for me; I mean hey, am I a great date or what? I take my friends so seedy mangey strip bars that look like they are oozing VD from every pore!

We met up with Adric and Techman and proceeded to do some serious eyeballin and drinking. Cindigo and I became our own secret club; we began a running commentary on all the girl-mackin we could see.

Oh the sights and sounds (and smells) of the Cleremont on a full night! I do believe there was a man with balloons, a dude dressed up all in 60's regalia complete with fuzzy afro, a couple of college boys who were obviously scared out of their minds and lots and lots of rowdy men. Techman was havin the time of his life (being as he's not creepy, crazy or ugly in the slightest and thereby couldn't have been better off than if he'd come bearing gifts) and macked left and right while Cindigo and I held up a constant undertone chatter of how he was doing. We noted facial expressions, body language and tallied up the results while Adric laughed his ass off.

At some point, we both had to go to the bathroom.

Now, let me make this clear: going to the bathroom at the Cleremont is an experience by itself. I do believe the bathroom was originally a crawl space that was eventually walled in. It has a "dressing area" in front of it but that only means a threadbare couch sitting sadly across from a cracked and stained mirror. Someone had put fake flowers there a long time ago and their dusty presence only made the whole place even more depressing or bizarre, depending on how you looked at it. The whole thing is painted dark navy blue and there's curtains of an indeterminant color hanging about even though the windows are painted over. I seem to remember discovering built-in shelves but it's hard to say since it was so dark in there... I might have been seeing optical illusions.

Anyway, we stepped up into the bathroom and took turns doing our business. When I say step up, I'm not overstating it; you have to step up and go through a curtained off "doorway" which was obviously designed for people like myself rather than someone of normal height. ONce in the dressing area, you have to step up again through an even smaller curtained "doorway" (apparently actual doors were too much to expect of the whole Cleremont budget) to get to the toilet. At least there's a sink next to it. NOt that you can really see it. But it's there, trust me. And if you ever there, don't look in the toilet.

I was standing in the dressing area waiting for Cindigo, when I noticed a stripper sitting on the couch. She was crying. Hoo boy. She was dressed in a unique cross between western-cowgirl style and blond bombshell. She had platinum hair (wig?), a white 10 gallon hat, gold vest and bikini, gold boots and a whip too. It wouldn't have been quite so appalling but she was ashy toned skin African American and I have this thing about gold on the wrong skin-tone. Mostly, I think 99% of the population looks completely hideous in it. Not to mention the horrific hair. Then there was how her body kind of undulated from her outfit. Maybe she could wear that get-up when she lived in texas 15 years ago but it had no doubt decided that she was not worthy of it and was valiently trying to squeeze her out. I guess she wasn't taking the hint because those clothes weren't going anywhere. I couldn't imagine her trying to strip them off without hearing a resounding "POP!" in my head as the scrimpy stuff probably exploded off of her (FLY AWAY! BE FREE!) Then again, maybe she bought a new one each time she went to work.

In any case, there she was, sitting on the couch, weeping. Well okay, I'm being kind. She wasn't weeping, she was bawling. Sobbing with great gasping "honk!"s and trying to wipe her nose and eyes with some wispy piece of cloth. I confess I didn't do anything for a minute. Crying strippers are not something you get in the way of... they have a habit of turning nasty at any moment. Someone else gave her a paper towel. She blew into it with a very wet sound and hacked and coughed a bit.

"um, are you alright?" someone asked. Cindigo looked at me apprehensively. I didn't know what to think but I was ready to run should Ms Talulah Cowpoke decide that her woes were somehow all OUR fault.
"n,n,nno!" she managed, then hurled another honking sob in our general direction.

At that moment, another stripper came in.

Now, this second woman was nearly a carbon copy of the first woman except she was about 50 lbs lighter. And that's not really a good thing. Whereas the first woman was somewhat rubinesque, with gently curving lines about her (okay well the curves weren't so gentle in the size outfit she obliviously wore but in a "normal" size she would have looked okay. Except for the hair. And the choice of colors. And the hat) the second woman was bone-stick gaunt. We're talking heroin-junkie skinny. Lines in the face, clothes falling-off, "you must shop in the little girls department" kinda skinny. "Haggard" I believe is the word.
Well the second woman was obviously the "take-charge" type. She sat right down next to the liquid-faced woman currently creating a new lake on the couch and interrogated her.

"what happened? Somebody buggin you? Somebody hurt you?" she demanded.

"n,n,no... I jiss..." BAWWWWWWL

"what? Whassamatter? C'mon, we gone get the doorman and go git whoever buggin you"

"naw, that ain't it" BAWWWWWWL

"what? What? Here..." she handed sobby a fresh paper towel.

"I was throwing up in the toilet.." (we backed up a bit)

"aw that ain't nothin... you cleaned up okay... you don't smell" (I wasn't so sure about that)

"naw, that ain't it... I was throwing up in the toilet and I lost my dentures... I don't know if they in the toilet or in the trash... I ast the man if they taked the garbage out back yet but he won't talk to me..." BOO HOO HOO! BAWWWWWL - Fresh wetness galore

Cindigo and I were now immobilized, too mesmerized by the tale to leave.

"oh! I know how to deal with that! thass no problem!"

Tears, Inc looked up, hopeful for the first time, "really?"

"yeah! all you got to do..." (we leaned forward as Ms Knowledgeable-in-the-ways-of-missing-orthodonture lowered her voice)

"is go get a broom, see" (incredulousness made my mouth pop open and we both leaned in some more)

"and then you git to the trash and you BEAT IT! BEAT IT! BEAT IT!" (we both snapped backwards upon hearing her voice boom out and both ducked to avoid getting wacked by her demonstration of said beating)

"really?" asked Wet-Face

"yeah! you jiss get the broom and go to the trash - I did this mahself last week when I lost mines - and you BEATITBEATITBEATIT!" (more arm flailing)

"well.." Teary didn't look convinced

"cmon! we gone git da janitor to git us a broom and then we find them thangs!" Ms Search-and-rescue grabbed Weepy by the hand and yanked her up and out of the bathroom."Cmon!" she was yelling as she left, dragging a not-quite-thrilled ex-sobby with her.

The rest of the night could not compare with that experience. Some parts came close, but nothing could top that.